


Christmas Present

by Mercury Starlight (WoolandWater)



Series: Advent Challenge 2010 [2]
Category: Velvet Goldmine
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-02
Updated: 2010-12-02
Packaged: 2017-10-23 22:29:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/255746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WoolandWater/pseuds/Mercury%20Starlight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At a Christmas party held in a familiar location, Curt and Arthur find out time means a lot – and very little.<br/>From the prompt: "Christmas Eve, party at the building where they were together on the roof. Surprise reunion that maybe starts with a little mistletoe."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Christmas Present

 

"So you'll make it, darling?" Mandy's put-on accent came lilting over the phone, dripping with her old seductive charm. Arthur had to admit she sounded better than she had in a while. The proceeds and publicity from her tell-all book were treating her well. He laughed joylessly.

"Yeah, why not?" he said, thinking of about a million reasons, "I've got the money and the time."

"Brilliant! Now don't forget, it's Christmas Eve, nine o'clock sharp. I'll see you there, can't wait to see you again!" Compared to Mandy's bombastic drawl, the dial tone that followed seemed subdued and un-assuming. He put the receiver back in its cradle and sat back, rubbing his eyes.

A reunion party for the participants of the Death of Glitter Concert. He couldn't help but think it would be an immediate disaster. On the other hand, he hadn't had any contact with any of the Creatures since he'd left London, and he'd love to know how Malcom and the gang were getting on. How Mandy and Jack had managed to procure the original building was beyond him – he'd always assumed it would have been demolished for housing or something by now.

He couldn't remember the last time he'd been to a holiday party. He always felt out of place at office gatherings, and he kept to himself in the city – his work was his best friend. He wasn’t lying when he told Mandy he had the money; he had quite a large savings, seeing as he never did anything or went anywhere special. 'You're a lonely old Scrooge, Arthur' he thought, 'and frankly, for a man of twenty-eight, that's sadder than I'd like to be.'

He'd have to get a flight into London, but as it was still a few weeks until Christmas, that wouldn't be a problem. The bigger problem was going back at all. After he'd gotten his US citizenship, he'd all but sworn he would never go back.

A wish he'd hoped to avoid snuck into his mind and he tried to shove it away. 'Maybe he'll be there,' the unwanted thought insisted, 'maybe we…'

"Stop it," he said crossly to himself, but he looked for the pin anyway. Of course, it was in his top desk drawer, where he always kept it. He picked it up, turned it over in his hands. 'A year since he gave it to me,' he thought, staring into its deep green gaze, 'And I don't think he ever remembered me.' Then he clutched it tightly and got up to find something to wear.

****

The warehouse was slathered in a campy Winter Wonderland theme. Rankin-Bass' Rudolph and Frosty adorned various walls and corners. Nat King Cole crooned from numerous speakers. Bubbles rained down from the ceiling, reflecting the fake snow covering the floor. Arthur could not have felt less at home if everyone were speaking Chinese.

"Arthur, darling!" Mandy called over the crowd, her enormous Santa hat bouncing with every word, "You've made it after all! I was beginning to think you'd stayed home! Malcom, look who it is!"

She pointed in Arthur's direction and he followed her gaze. Malcom smiled and stood up to greet him. Time had been good to him – great, actually, he'd barely aged a day.

 "Oh my god, look at you!" Malcom yelled over the music as he reached up to hug Arthur tightly, "Our little boy is all grown up."

 "Who's the little boy?" Arthur said smiling, looking down dramatically at Malcom's tiny frame. Malcom playfully punched his arm.

 "Oh stop it! Come on, everybody's here, they can't wait to see you!" He headed back towards the table he'd been sharing with the rest of his former band mates and called behind him as they walked, "What in the world have you been doing with yourself? Besides unmasking a certain Mr. Slade, that is, we all heard about that. I was so proud of you when I read that article."

 "Thanks," Arthur blushed, "I haven't been up to a lot, I suppose. Honestly, I'm still trying to figure that out, myself. Did you say everybody's here?"

 Malcom stopped and turned, wearing a sympathetic expression, "Oh, honey, I almost forgot. Mandy told me Curt declined. I figured you might want to know, considering…"

 "No, no it's fine," Arthur lied, his stomach dropping, "I'm glad for it, actually, it could've been awkward."

 "Aw, sweetie, I remember how much that whole thing affected you. Hell, I've always thought it was why you left."

 'Spot on,' he thought, but only smiled weakly and said, "It was a long time ago. Like you said, I'm all grown up now. Come on, I want to catch up."

 And for a while as he threw back drinks with his old friends and recalled happier times, he forgot entirely how empty he felt without him.

 ****

After two hours of steady drinking, he realized if he never heard another Christmas song it would be too soon and he snuck upstairs to get some air and clarity. Up to the rooftop – their rooftop. It was empty, and he was glad. He half expected the dirty old mattress to still be there, but it had been cleared away years ago. He leaned on the half-wall and watched the scenery across the street. It had not changed a bit, and a flood of memories filled his brain. For a moment he was seventeen again, laughing at the silly jokes of an older man, and more than ever he felt the loss of his innocence and the waste of his life since that night. He felt himself choking up and was trying to blink back tears when the mistletoe lowered in front of his eyes.

"Didn't expect anybody to be up here," a familiar voice croaked, "But nobody's safe from this stuff while I'm around and I guess you're my newest victim."

Arthur turned around to find even more familiar blue-grey eyes and the shock dried up the rest of his tears.

"Oh hey, it's you!" Curt said, lowering the mistletoe in seemingly equal shock, "The Herald reporter from the bar. You're wearing the pin!" he said happily, pointing at the bauble attached to Arthur's scarf, "Awesome! You were so reluctant to take it, I didn't know if you'd keep it."

"I…I'd heard you weren't coming," Arthur said in what he hoped was a casual tone.

"Yeah, I changed my mind at the last minute. I happened to be in town and I figured, 'Hey, the worst that'll happen is I'll end up having a mediocre time, but I'll have it drunk, so why the hell not?' and next thing I knew I was on my way over here."

"That's actually pretty close to my thoughts on it," Arthur stared at Curt in amazement. He looked good, better than he had a year ago. His hair was still gloriously long, cascading over his leather jacket-clad shoulders; he'd dyed it brown again and it suited him. He seemed happier too, like Mandy. It was as if Brian's outing had released his former lovers from some kind of terrible bondage. He was glad to have been a part of it. At the same time, he could only feel an overwhelming disappointment at the confirmation that Curt remembered him only as the Herald reporter he'd met last year. Their night together years ago had truly meant nothing; he'd been just another faceless groupie all along.

"You know, it's funny your being up here," Curt paused, as if considering whether to continue, then cleared his throat, "I uh, I gave you that pin because you remind me of somebody I met up here a long time ago."

"Really?" Arthur again tried to sound casual, but his heart did flip-flops.

"Yeah, it's kinda' silly, but…there was this kid I met the night of the concert. He looked like a lost puppy surrounded by wolves, right down to the obliviousness to his situation," he laughed to himself as he fidgeted with the mistletoe, "We had a good time that night. I pretty much bailed on him the next morning, I've always felt bad about that. He left a real impression on me. I guess in a way, I've been thinking about him ever since."

'It was me! That was me, dammit!" Arthur thought wildly, but he could only stare, wordless. Curt laughed again, louder and with a tinge of embarrassment.

"I'm sorry, I don't know why I'm telling you all this shit. It's just kind-of eerie, you look a little like him. You even sorta' sound like him. Hell, you're here tonight, you must have been there then, maybe you knew him? He was seventeen, his name was-"

"Arthur," he finally found his voice, and it sounded furious, "His name was Arthur. He was wearing a ridiculous make-up job he'd done himself, and he was higher than a kite, and he'd never met anyone more fascinating or gorgeous or intelligent as you. You took his virginity and he was glad to give it."

Curt stared dumbfounded at Arthur's reddening face, eyes wide, "Shit," he whispered, "No fucking way."

"And he believed you when you when you told him you'd never met anyone like him before, that he was wise beyond his years, that you thought you could love someone like him. You said you were leaving for Germany in two days, and he believed you when you said you'd take him with you. And when you didn't, he cried himself to sleep every night for two weeks before packing up and moving to America on a desperate gamble to stay alive instead of wasting away here waiting for you to come back."

Arthur's voice cracked on the final word, and he shoved past Curt and stood at the other end of the roof, clinging to the half-wall. The weight of ten years of unresolved grief and anger forced the tears out of his eyes and he fought to choke back his sobs.

"It's really you," Curt said in amazement, "I didn’t think I'd ever find you again, and I was too stupid to realize it's been you all this time."

"What do you care?" Arthur spat without turning around, still trying to hold back the flood, "I was a child, it must have been so easy for you to tell me what I wanted to hear. God knows how many others there were like me."

"None," Curt stepped toward Arthur's shaking form, "I'm not going to lie to you, when I first got you up here, I was feeding you the same lines I'd fed a lot of people. But after I got to talking to you, I regretted that. Out of any of them, you were the only one who meant anything, the first in a long time and the last ever since."

"Right," Arthur whispered, closer than ever to breaking, "That's why you were so eager to make good on your promises."

"I wanted to," Curt's voice was weak and apologetic.

"Then why didn't you?" Arthur demanded forcefully as he whirled to face Curt, no longer concerned about hiding his tears.

"I was afraid of you!" Curt yelled back, "Everything about you fucking terrified me! You were a chance at happiness, real, no bullshit happiness and I knew I didn't deserve it! I was twenty-five, I'd been jaded since I was fourteen, and here was this amazing kid who was worth ten of me and I wanted you so fucking bad that it hurt. I didn't just want to fuck you, I wanted to know you, I wanted to fucking be you! I wanted to know what it felt like to still have so much hope and promise and a fucking future! And it scared the shit out of me, so I ran away, all right?"

Feeling altogether unprepared to deal with any of this explanation, Arthur slid down the wall to the floor and gave in to the release of a good cry. Curt took a deep breath and sat beside him, leaning his back and head against the wall, arms hung over his knees, still clutching the mistletoe.

"And I knew you deserved better than me," he said in a much quieter tone. Arthur cried softly, but he listened, "I was such a fucking mess then. I was selfish and impulsive and I was still on the rebound," he shook his head at the memory, "I would've broken your heart either way. And if not, I probably would've broken your nose, I had a pretty serious anger problem…I was headed toward an even more serious heroin problem…it would have been a disaster. Leaving was the last thing I wanted to do, but I was a fucking coward and you were better off without me."

"No, I wasn't," Arthur said, calmer but still sniffling, "All I wanted was you, I could've figured out the rest on my own. Instead, I came away from it feeling used and tossed out and stupid. It was years before I could even look at myself in the mirror without wincing. It destroyed my self-confidence, my trust for people…I went from wide-eyed to cynical in a matter of days, and I've been stuck on cynical ever since. Not to mention, it completely ruined my chances at any kind of meaningful relationship. I'm nearly thirty and I've never even had a steady lover. Hell, I've only ever had a couple, period, and each only lasted a couple of weeks before it fell apart."

"Fuck," Curt muttered under his breath and buried his head in his hands, "Fuck, I didn't…I'm so sorry." Arthur ignored him and rode the momentum of his anger.

"And after all of it, after I'd managed to finally force myself to forget it all, to try to move on with my life, that fucking assignment comes along and suddenly I'm running into you in a shitty dive bar and you're passing the pin on to me like it was some kind of noble torch. And all it did was rekindle some kind of childish hope that I was important to someone after all, that someone in the world gave a damn who I was. It didn't last long, and here I am, still as much of a useless wreck as ever, dragging myself along through this empty fucking wasteland of an existence. I'd have rather dealt with the anger and the heroin, at least it would have been living."

Arthur rubbed his eyes with one hand and assumed nearly the same position as Curt, "Jesus, that sounds so pathetic," he hissed, hand still over his eyes, "I can't imagine what I look like to you."

Curt took Arthur's hand from off his eyes and held it. They looked directly at each other, and Arthur realized it was Curt's eyes that shone now.

"You look like someone I hurt more than I ever could have imagined. And I can't begin to tell you how sorry that makes me, because it kills me that I changed you that way. I never wanted that for you, I never wanted you to see even a moment of that life – fuck, I wanted to save you."

Arthur snorted and started to pull his hand away, but Curt held it tighter.

"I mean it. Of course I know better now, that it was stupid and selfish of me, but at the time I told myself I was doing both of us good. And you don't have to believe any of this, you don't owe me shit, but you changed me too. The drugs and time might have fucked up my brain enough that I had a hard time recognizing you, but I never forgot you, Arthur. Not ever. And the memory of you made me want to be better. It made me want to deserve someone like you."

Curt paused, and a tiny smile graced his lips, "And you look pretty amazing, actually. I thought you were hot when you were seventeen, I had no idea how much better it got."

Arthur blushed despite himself and he almost smiled before he pulled his hand away, "Come off it, I'm not falling for it twice," he said, and he realized that at least a part of himself was teasing.

"I'm serious," Curt said, but he smiled wider.

Arthur sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. Curt settled back against the wall again and the two sat in silence for a long time. Eventually it was Arthur who spoke up.

"So you're off the heroin then?" he said, surprising himself at how casual he sounded and actually felt.

"Six years now," Curt replied with a hint of pride in his voice, "'Course I'm still a slave to coffee and cigarettes, and I enjoy a good drink now and then, but I keep that under control. Still, no hard stuff anymore, no methadone, nothing. And with this whole AIDS thing going around, it looks like I'll be keeping it that way. Christ that shit is scary. I noticed there were a few missing faces in there tonight and it really freaks me out to think…y'know…" he trailed off, but Arthur did know, and he nodded.

They lapsed into silence again, but this time it was only a little while before Curt turned to Arthur again.

"So, what do we do now?" he asked carefully. Arthur looked over at him, but said nothing.

"I mean, we're here, and it seems like we've cleared the air at least a little. And I'm thinking, maybe it means something that we ran into each other again after all this time, and twice now. I don't expect you to forgive me, like I said, you don't owe me anything. If anything, I owe everything to you. I'm not the same person I was ten years ago, and I'd really like to show you that. I loved getting to know you then…I'd like to get to know you now. What would you say to maybe…maybe starting again?"

Arthur considered Curt carefully, and met his gaze. Curt did not look away, and his eyes were as honest as ever.

"You're serious," Arthur said with a hint of amazement and although he tried not to show it, his heart soared.

Curt nodded. Then he smiled again, more of a smirk this time, and leaned forward on one hand, lifting the mistletoe into the space above their heads with the other. He moved his own head under it and lifted an eyebrow. Arthur stared for a moment before allowing himself to laugh and as he did so he realized it was the first time he'd laughed like that in a long time. As angry as he'd felt before, Curt was right – it was liberating telling him all that, as if he'd finally rid himself of an enormous burden. He leaned in and met Curt's lips, and the kiss, though short, was just as he'd remembered it.

"I'd like that," he said, and kissed him again, "Very much."

"Good," Curt said as he tossed the mistletoe aside and scooted closer. He traced a thumb across Arthur's cheek and as he leaned in to kiss him again, Arthur pulled back gently.

"Maybe you come with me this time," Arthur said, the smirk having transferred to his lips, "I don't particularly fancy a repeat up here, and my hotel room is a hell of a lot warmer than a rooftop."

Curt grinned and stood up, "I can handle that," he said, reaching a hand down to help Arthur up. The two made their way through the crowd downstairs with no difficulty, everyone was lost in their own nostalgic world. Still, Arthur caught Malcom's eye just as he ducked out the door, still holding Curt's hand. Malcom grinned broadly and winked at him. Arthur smiled back, and he found himself getting his hopes up as they walked to his rental car.

****

When Arthur woke up the next morning, there was no doubt Curt had stayed. He was wrapped around the younger man as though he were the only stable object in the room, and his steady breath was calm; it warmed Arthur's shoulder-blade, and he loved the feeling. He placed a hand on Curt's arm, slung protectively around his chest, and Curt stirred.

"Mmm, good morning beautiful," he mumbled into Arthur's back, "Are you as hung over as I am?"

"I won't know until I sit up," Arthur said, smiling. He rolled over and wrapped his own arm around Curt's waist, looking into his eyes. He stared at Curt in wonder.

"You're really still here," he whispered, tracing a finger over Curt's back.

"I want to keep it that way," Curt whispered back, "It's Christmas morning, I wish I'd gotten you something."

"No need, I got what I wanted," Arthur squeezed Curt's waist for emphasis.

"Me too," Curt said as he kissed Arthur's forehead and held him closer. Arthur settled into the warmth of Curt's chest for a moment before sitting bolt upright and wincing from the sudden pain of his hangover.

"Shit!" he said as he searched the nightstand for the clock radio, "What time is it? My plane leaves at eleven!"

"It's uh… " Curt said slowly as he glanced at the clock radio – it was on his side of the bed, "Nine. Jesus, it's nine? How and why am I awake right now?"

Arthur laughed as he pulled his jeans on, then grimaced at the volume his own laughter. Curt slowly dragged himself to his feet and by the time Arthur had his t-shirt on, he was standing in front of him wearing underwear, a grin, and nothing else. He wrapped his arms around Arthur's waist and touched foreheads.

"So what do you say we go get some coffee and then before you disappear on me I get your address and give you mine? I've still got some business here, but I'll be heading home by the end of the week and within an hour after I get off that plane, we're grabbing some dinner and a movie," he made a point to look Arthur in the eyes, "I am not losing you again."

"That sounds…perfect," Arthur said, smiling, "Get dressed, I'll get my coat."

Arthur went into the bathroom for a piss before getting his coat, and as he washed his hands the quiet in the other room sent a wave of panic over him. 

"Curt?" He called behind him, and the emotion must have carried through his voice because immediately Curt called back.

"Still here, babe, I'm just getting dressed."

The bathroom door opened as Arthur was shaking the water off his hands and Curt, still shirtless, hugged him from behind, kissing his neck.

"I meant it," he whispered, "I'm not going anywhere, I promise. And I intend to prove to you that I keep my promises now."

Arthur smiled and leaned back against him, wrapping his arms around Curt's. He looked at the reflection of the two of them and liked what he saw. And for the first time in a decade, Arthur Stuart allowed himself to feel true contentment.


End file.
